


Betrayal

by Cell0113



Category: Brütal Legend
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cell0113/pseuds/Cell0113
Summary: There are some things that can never be forgiven.Cross-posted from tumblr. Read at own risk.





	Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sonicsora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Wound Deepens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12380016) by [sonicsora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora). 



> (Copied from my tumblr)
> 
> Why I wrote this: I do not in any way, shape or form condone rape, as my more consistent followers will know, and upon reading this fic, you will understand why.  
> HOWEVER, I recently came across  this image  (click at your own risk, explicit), and as I have been writing a lot of Eddie as of late in various roleplays and other fictions in progress, my Eddie muse has been very strongly in the forefront of my mind. His reaction to the mentioned image was Extremely Strong, strong enough that I had to leave my desk and ended up crying in the bathroom for a good ten minutes before being able to calm down.  
> This was a fiction I never, ever wanted to write, not in a million years, but it NEEDED to be written, else it tear me apart from the inside out.

Gravel skittered loose across the cold, fog-coated ground, kicked into motion by a pair of battered sneakers shuffling laboriously forward. The gait of the dying, some might say, and at that moment, Eddie honestly wouldn’t have been able to argue otherwise.

He knew he was in shock, that much he was certain of, feeling conspicuously numb and empty, void of emotion or thought as he dragged himself onwards, though he sensed something chattering in the very back of his mind, a volatile jumble muffled under a blanket of stunned apathy.

Ironheade had lost.

The Drowning Doom, already a formidable enemy, had proven to be an indomitable force with the back up of a stage, and their depression inducing magic had more than a few falling prey to much more physically devastating attacks. On some level, he understood that it was only one battle, a singular encounter in this long war, and Ironheade would recover in time to fight again another day. But right now…

Right now, it seemed like all was lost to him, the cause undone and the end inevitable.

Probably a lingering effect of-

Eddie shuddered, inhaling a hoarse gasp of air as he shook his head, feeling anew the bruises and scrapes and soreness that burrowed down to rest in his bones. The Separator dragged along beside him, digging a shallow furrow alongside his shuffling footsteps with its sharp blade. Clementine was a familiar, comforting weight across his shoulders, even with his aching muscles and the heavy bruising down his back. Being shoved to the ground, crushed against uneven earth and stone, never did the body any good whatsoever. Strange how someone with such a slight frame seemed so much heavier when one was too exhausted to muster the strength to push them away…

He swallowed hard, vaguely aware of the fact his vision had started going blurry around the edges, obscuring the way forward into smears of deep gray and feathery white with the odd streak of blue. A large rock, unseen by his vacant stare, caught on the toe of his shoe, and he tripped, stumbling a few steps as his axe slipped from his grasp. He felt his knees go weak, and barely managed to catch himself, jagged gravel digging harshly into his already battered palms. A soft hiss escaped him at the sharp spike of pain, then he slowly began to pull himself together, fighting the stinging pressure behind his eyes as he tried to find his way back up to his feet.

He managed to get as far as his knees before he felt his breathing hitch, and that muffling blanket in the back of his mind shredded into pieces as everything came rushing at him all at once, hitting him from all sides with a single question.

“…why…”

The Drowning Doom had won, Ophelia had been proven victorious, why did she-?

He shuddered, the word for her actions a sour and spiky thing his mind skirted, afraid to touch, to realize, even though he knew it was only a matter of time.

They’d been fighting, head to head, flying over the battlefield where her zombified masses bore down upon his already battered and weary few. Eddie was already worn down then, barely able to keep airborne, but he kept trying, kept fighting for the sake of his friends making their own stand below. But exhaustion made him sloppy, and when the stage fell, when he heard screams and battle cries alike being silenced, he’d turned away to help, thinking that even Tear-tainted, Ophelia would still have the honor to allow retreat to those she had once befriended.

But she stabbed him in the back, literally, driving a spike of blackened metal through one of his wings into a lung, not even allowing him the liberty of a scream as the sky was forcibly torn from his grasp. And then she’d gone and carried him off, a prize carried in the eerie morphing tendrils of her Tear-drenched wings. He’d managed to recover some by the time she dropped him at the hilltop, far from the field of battle, and he scrambled to his feet, bloody, tired, but not yet beaten.

They fought, and fought hard, but she was in far better shape than he, and it wasn’t long until he made a mistake, moved that little bit too slowly, reacted but not in time. She swatted his axe from his hands, and when he tried to retreat, grabbing for his guitar, she descended upon him like a raptor on cornered prey. Tendrils whirled black and purple, and he’d been thrown to the ground, coughing up blood from his still healing lung with both his axes out of his reach.

It took him a moment to register the weight that settled over his pelvis, and he struggled to try propping himself up, catching a glimpse of her triumphant smirk as she straddled him before those strange ribbon-like wings lashed out, shoving him back down with force he knew had to be excessive.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you like this, Eddie. Beaten down, alone, flat on your back and helpless. Just like I was, when you left me behind to rot.”

She loomed over him, her eerie blue-tinted skin blending into the dreary overcast sky above, and he couldn’t help a shiver as she stroked her fingers along his jaw, cold as a corpse.

“I see you’ve still got some spark in you. Good old Eddie, so ready to keep fighting, even when you’ve already lost it all.”

Her laugh was icy and hollow, her smile sharp as she threaded her fingers into his sideburns.

“It’d be admirable, if it wasn’t so stupid.”

Cold fingers twisted, and he hissed as hair was yanked loose. He tried to move, hands grasping at the ground as his legs kicked, struggling to find some purchase, but he was already exhausted to his breaking point, the two fights sucking the energy out of him as assuredly as a vampire sucked blood. Even moving so little had him gasping for breath, vision swimming. And she laughed, flicking strands of hair from her fingers.

“Looks like I’ve still got work to do. To bring you down to my level.”

As she reached for his face again, he coughed, grimacing at the metallic taste of blood before he managed to summon up the sliver of energy needed to speak, his voice hoarse.

“The f-fuck’re you talking about?”

Ophelia scowled, her attractive features twisting into an ugly mask of anger.

“You don’t get it do you. This whole war, the battles, the fighting, the Tears-? It’s revenge. Revenge for what you did that day!”

He flinched at her sudden volume, her eyes flashing with malevolent intent, but the stupid, stubborn part of him didn’t want to shut up just yet.

“What I did? I didn’t do-”

“Is that what you think? Really? That you did nothing?!”

She hissed her words, rage baring her teeth in his face like a wolf baring its fangs at a deer.

“You betrayed me, Eddie, worse than anyone else. I expected as much from Lita, even Lars to an extent, but you?”

Laughter, hoarse and hollow, mocking in its parody of merriment.

“I trusted you to trust me, to believe in me, give me the benefit of the doubt when no one else ever did, because everyone always judged me on the actions of my parents, never my own. I gave everything to the cause, Eddie, everything! And for what? Suspicion. Prejudice. Backhanded insults, but I was always that girl with the Tear Drinker parents.”

She gripped his face in her hands as she spoke, long nails digging into his skin as she forced him to meet her eyes.

“And then you came along, a perfect stranger, and within hours, you’re the golden boy, the Chosen One. Everyone likes you, everyone trusts you.”

He bit back a whimper as she tightened her grip, feeling pricks of pain as his skin began to tear under the pressure.

“Even me.”

She let go, and he couldn’t hold back a yelp as his head struck the ground, leaving him dazed for a few moments. As he came to himself, he felt a muted tug, slender hands sliding over his middle, and he stiffened as he realized she was fiddling with his belt buckle, his shirt pulled up from his pants.

“Wh-What’re you-?”

Glowing purple eyes glared up at him, and he felt a tremor go down his spine as she grinned, shark-like, and he swallowed as hearing the dull click of his belt coming undone.

“Bringing you down, Eddie. I’m going to gouge out that last spark in you, so you understand exactly how I felt then, and why I feel this way now.”

A faint rushing sound caught his attention, and he exhaled a soft gasp as he caught sight of that liquid dress. Or rather, what had been under it, as the ethereal material seemed to have peeled away, leaving her torso bare, as she wore nothing under the amorphous garment. She smirked at his reaction, flexing her Tear-drenched wings as she ghosted a still-gloved hand down her front, taunting and seductive all in one motion.

“Do you like? I know you’re still attracted to me, Eddie, I’m not blind. Probably very different than how you imagined though. With you on top?”

Red flags lurched to attention in his mind, and he felt his eyes widen as he tried desperately to get himself loose, hands and feet scrabbling furrows in the dirt.

“Ophelia- Ophs- I- I’m sorry, I just-”

“Just shut up.”

A tendril jolted towards his face, and he closed his mouth just in time, even as he felt the blood drain from his face upon feeling her hands moving over him. The faint ‘vwip’ of a zipper, and he tried again to struggle free, this time trying to push her away, only to have his hands grabbed and shoved down by black liquid tendrils.

“Well. At least you’re not compensating for something.”

Her humorless laugh was like salt in the wound, and he squirmed, protests muffled as he finally managed to get his feet braced enough to attempt bucking her off. But he only got another laugh for his efforts, cold and cruel.

“Don’t worry, Eddie, we’ll get to that soon. We just need to do a little… Coaxing.”

He felt her cold fingers pulling at his waistband, sliding his jeans down to give her easier access. Of all the times to not be wearing underwear-!

Kicking out, he battled his own exhaustion in his efforts to get free, but she put those damn tendrils to good use, pinning him in place as securely as a bug to a plaque. Blood, coughed up from his lung, pooled in the back of his throat and he choked, red spray spitting from his nose, and the tendril over his mouth reluctantly pulled away to allow him to turn his head, coughing harshly for a moment before he managed to clear his throat, his breathing hoarse and shallow. He licked his lips to clean away the blood, and shuddered as he felt slim fingers wrap around his length.

“Ophelia… Please…”

“Too late for begging, Eddie. Take your punishment like a man.”

The problem with being a guy, any guy, was just how READY the male body was. All the time. The slightest thing could cause an erection, and sometimes, they happened fr absolutely no discern able reason what so ever. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Eddie really hadn’t gotten any in a while, continuously busy with the whole war effort thing.

So even though he desperately did not want to participate in this horrendous situation, his dick was all too happy to respond to Ophelia’s dexterous fingers working him over.

He felt nauseous, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes in shame as his body betrayed him.

“There we go… Such a good little soldier, standing to attention. Time to engage in a frontal assault…”

Those slim fingers left him, and he found a moment to breathe, trying to brace himself. Only to give a soft hiss as something slick and smooth began stroking languorously along his treacherous length, barely edging above lukewarm. He tried to pull his mind away, depart his consciousness from this horrid fallacy of love making, but Ophelia made certain that he was paying attention, digging her nails into his hips as she worked herself up, using him like a cheap toy.

“Do you feel it yet, Eddie? The betrayal you bestowed upon me? The self loathing? The hatred?”

She chuckled, and he felt her hands shift, bracing herself over him.

“Come on, Eddie, let me hear it. I want your tears for my sea.”

Warmth, smooth and wet, engulfed him, and he gasped out in shock, eyes popping open a moment before he forced them closed again, feeling an ugly sort of hurt build in the back of his throat as he felt hot tears prickle against his lids, giving his tormentor exactly what she wanted.

She took her time with it all, taking advantage of his prone state and making sure he knew it, her voice soft in little gasps and moans and dark chuckles he tried so very hard to ignore, nausea twisting his stomach as his body began to react against his will. He was a toy to her, an instrument, a tool, and she used him as such, her body rocking down on him with increasing fervor.

It was almost funny, then, that they ended up cumming at the same time, her heated walls clenching around him as she gasped out a breathless laugh that only just managed to drown out his own muffled whimper. She settled on him, sighing as she rode out her orgasm with his, and he felt his stomach do a sickly flip-flop when she finally pulled away from him, her dress reshaping around her as if nothing had happened, leaving him choking back tears and blood on the ground.

“Now you understand, Eddie. You know why.”

Without another word, she spread her wings and took flight.

He remained lying there for several minutes, finally managing to get his breath back and slowly pulling himself together. Getting cleaned up and dressed again was a chore he only just got through, finding his way upright was like climbing a mountain, but he took up his axes and did it. Forced himself into motion, ended up skidding on his butt down the hill, nearly smashing his head on a gravestone.

And now here he was, kneeling in the dirt, hands bloodied in his lap and tears spilling soundless down his face, without even the energy to sob.

Gravel crunched. He did not look up.

“…Edward?”

“Eddie? That you man?”

Small hands, warm and work roughened, settled against his arm, and he shivered, breath leaving him in a soft gasp. He heard something heavy fall to the ground, metal grating on stone, and he felt those hands move as a blurry shape slid into his view, black and peach and blonde. A second, larger pair of hands settled upon his shoulders, squeezing gently as the smaller cupped his chin.

“Edward… What happened to you?”

The answer boiled like acid in his brain, and he felt his breathing hitch as he closed his eyes, a small broken sound leaving his sore throat, thin and hurting like a dying animal. He heard the faint hush of fabric rubbing on itself, and slim, strong arms wrapped around him, a warm hand resting on the back of his neck as someone rested their chin on his shoulder. It was that comfort that finally broke him, and he slumped limply into Lita’s hug as he wept, crying so hard his whole body heaved, though he remained voiceless in his sorrow.

He cried for a long time, until he finally couldn’t cry anymore, wavering between levels of consciousness. Voices, familiar and warm, flowed around him, words indecipherable in his current state, and he felt someone lift him up from the ground, setting him carefully down upon a padded surface, where he summoned up just enough energy to curl in on himself before falling into the welcome darkness of sleep.


End file.
